


If Only

by aubreytruthfully



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Wincest - Freeform, drunk!Sam, sort of sad ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 08:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aubreytruthfully/pseuds/aubreytruthfully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sammy comes back to the motel a little too drunk</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Only

Dean was pacing around the motel room. He had called Sam more times than he could remember—at some point he simply lost count—and he was about to have a heart attack. Sammy was supposed to have just gone to the library to research, but that had been hours ago. It was night and Sammy still hadn’t returned.

He flipped his phone open again, just to try again.

“You’ve reached Sam, leave a message,” the recording spoke.

“Dammit Sammy! Fucking pick your goddamn phone!” Dean threw his phone across the room.

His mind was spinning, just trying to find all the different ways Sam could’ve died in the past few hours. It was finding all the ways that someone could’ve taken Sam and done God-knows-what with him. In all his worries, Dean had already went through six beers and couldn’t even eat the pie he had bought that morning.

Body standing on it’s own, Dean’s eyes jerked over to the door when it opened. Sammy walked in smiling all lopsided and goofily.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Dean got up his little brother’s face.

“Dean—Dean, just,” Sam laughed; he was wasted, “what?”

“You’re drunk,” Dean didn’t know whether to laugh at the stupid bastard or kill him for making Dean worry all night.

“Maybe,” Sam poked Dean’s chest, “You’re really firm.” He looked surprised.

“Yeah, whatever Sammy,” he rolled his eyes, “let’s just get you to bed.”

Dean helped Sam stumble over to the bed; yeah, he was definitely wasted. If the smell of it wasn’t enough, all the stumbling and mumbling was a dead giveaway. Not that Dean was judging, he spent a majority of nights drunk; he was a little buzzed now. With Dean, it was more of state of being; Sammy wasn’t supposed to get drunk like this. Although, it was nice to see him so relaxed. All the smiling that Sam kept doing was starting to become contagious.

The buttons on Sam’s shirt were a little frustrating, but Dean thought that if Sam decided to throw up at some point in the night, he would rather throw up on his pajamas than his clothes. Dean pulled the shirt off Sam’s shoulders and tossed it over on his duffel bag. He was contemplating on helping Sam with his jeans or not and decided on not.

“Dean,” Sam wobbled on the bed, “you got anything to drink?”

“You want some water?” Dean asked standing from his crouched position.

“No, no, no, no,” Sam giggled, “I just said no four times. But Dean, I mean—I mean something to drink. Like drink.”

“I think you’re done for the night there little brother,” Dean patted his shoulder.

Sam just looked at him. Fuck, how could he do that puppy face while drunk? Dean couldn’t even do that face sober. He squinted his eyes, making a Sammy-just-stop-it face, but Sam still gave him that look. There was no way that Sam needed any more to drink, but Dean found himself muttering ‘fine’ and rummaging around for some beer. When he came back, he handed Sammy a beer and cracked one for himself—he needed a drink.

“Dean?” Sam asked eyes heavily lidded.

“Yeah Sam?” He glanced down, amazed that his brother was still sitting up on the bed.

“How’d you get to be so tall so fast?” those hazel eyes were innocently staring up at him.

Dean chuckled and looked at Sam for a moment. All the mean possible things that Dean could do to the poor kid, but he wasn’t going to. Not tonight. For tonight, seeing Sammy smile would have to be enough.  
“I didn’t,” he took a sip, “you’re just sitting down.”

He watched as his brother tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Sam’s eyes looked up at Dean, then back down to the bed, and then to the floor. The process was repeated several times. It was like watching a light bulb turn on when Sam finally understood that Dean hadn’t actually grown.

With that realization, Sam stood up—wobbling only a little—with a look of pride on his face. Sam looked at Dean, then the bed, and then the floor, just checking that his surroundings had changed accordingly. Dean was about to die laughing, because he hadn’t seen his brother this drunk in years. Now that he was thinking about it, Sam hadn’t been this drunk since the first time Dean got him to drink. A smile crept onto Dean’s lips at the memory. For some reason, Sam smiled back at him—probably the only response he could think of.

Sam was still looking at him, only stopping to set his beer down on the carpet. The stare was starting to make Dean a little uncomfortable.

“Remember, umm, remember the first time you,” Sam chuckled, “got me drunk?”

“Do you?” Dean answered, but he knew exactly what Sam was talking about.

“Yes,” Sam nodded slowly, “I think it went umm—it went like this,”

With a stumble, Sam leaned down and kissed him. Dean froze beneath his brother’s giant frame. His mind was telling him to push the fucking lumberjack away, but his body was refusing to do any of the things that his mind was telling it to do.

Dean remembered the first time he got Sam drunk very well. They had never talked about it after that. It was one of the forbidden topics—like Lisa and Ben. Dean wanted Sammy to have a good time, so they both got pretty drunk in their motel room. Sam had just graduated and Dean had figured that it might be one of the last night’s they’d spend together. He always knew that his brother would leave. It had started out innocent, just drinking and laughing. Dean had never meant for them to kiss. No, he didn’t imagine that happening at all that night. Dean had also never meant for them to get into a pretty heated make-out session, but that had happened too.

That night had been a mistake. It had been so fucked up. They had just done it in a drunken haze, and that’s what this was too. Sam was only kissing him because he was drunk. It was because Sam was drunk. However, Dean didn’t quite have an explanation as to why he hadn’t pulled away yet.

Holy shit, he hadn’t pulled away yet!

“Sammy,” Dean warned, finally getting a breath of air, “you need to go to bed.”

“You need to go to bed,” Sam chimed back, his hands still gripped in Dean’s shirt.

“Okay,” Dean shrugged.

“No, Dean,” Sam leaned back in and Dean was having a hard time focusing now that his brother’s bare torso was currently pressed up against him. This was beyond fucked up, “don’t make me stop.”

“You’re drunk,” Dean shook his head, “You are so damn drunk right now Sammy, you don’t know what you want. In the morning, you’re going to be so embarrassed.”

“No I won’t Dean,” Sam pulled him closer, that innocent look in his eyes completely drowned out, “I wasn’t embarrassed after the first time.”

Dean hadn’t been either, not really. He’d been ashamed, because what they had done was wrong. But embarrassed? No. Sammy was his other half. They were soul mates in some weird, dysfunctional, unusual way. It wasn’t that Dean didn’t want to kiss him—that he thought that was about to make him vomit. It was that it was wrong. Right? Especially now, Sammy was completely incapacitated to make a good decision.

His mind was spinning again, like it did when he didn’t know where Sam was. He couldn’t do this. No, this was entirely wrong. It set off every alarm in his body. But Sam’s hands were still touching his chest, Sam’s eyes were still staring down at him, and Sam’s mouth was still turned in a half-smile. Just this once, maybe he could break the rules. Just. This. Once. After all, Sam might not even remember all of this in the morning. Right?

“Sammy,” Dean leaned in, his breath coming out at a nerve-racking level, “please don’t remember this tomorrow.”

Then Dean pulled Sam down for a kiss. They’re lips both tasting heavily of alcohol, but Sam’s still having that taste specifically associated with Sam. Dean could remember how Sam’s lips felt the first time they kissed. This time, they were still the same shape and had the same feel, but there was something different about Sam. Time had worn them both down, leaving them scrambling for whatever was left of their lives.

Sam’s hands hand settled down to Dean’s waist, but they didn’t stay there for long. Dean felt himself being pulled up to his tiptoes; Sam’s arms had wrapped him up completely. Their bodies were pressed against each other, and Dean realized that he wasn’t even standing at this point. His drunken brother was managing to hold him up. It felt far better than it should to be held like that. Dean was always preoccupied with protecting his brother, but now, he felt like nothing could hurt him as long as he was in Sam’s arms. For the second time in Dean’s life, his tongue collided with Sam’s. He pulled Sam’s face in closer—not that it changed the distance between them more than a couple millimeters—and finally let himself completely relax into Sam.

Dean couldn’t remember when they stopped kissing. He couldn’t tell anyone what time it was that his lips finally parted from his brother’s completely. There was no memory of how long they had spent kissing—although, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t know that it lasted more than a couple hours.

He slowly moved himself out of Sam’s arms. Dean looked back at his sleeping brother; his face was softened and peaceful. It made Dean smile, but he didn’t let his thoughts linger. Quickly, Dean messed up his bed to make it look like he slept there and not against his brother’s chest. Not wasting time, Dean started put all of his things inside his duffel—and maybe he put the shirt that Sam had been wearing in there too. As much as Dean hated to admit it, he didn’t want to forget about last night. As much as Dean REALLY hated to admit, he didn’t want Sammy to forget either, but he knew that it was for the best if Sam didn’t remember.  
“Dean?” a sleepy voice came from behind him.

“Sammy, get up!” Dean spoke a little too loud, just to make his brother flinch, “We need to get going.”

“What happened last night?” Dean couldn’t tell if his mind felt more relieved or if his heart felt more pain, but either way, Sam didn’t remember.

“You came in completely wasted and I talked you into going to sleep,” Dean paused, letting himself think of the night before briefly, “Now, get up.”

Before long, they were both on the road again. Music was going and the open road was all that was in front of them. Dean’s eyes would occasionally trail over to his brother. He could remember how every part of Sam felt. It made his chest hurt, so he turned the music up a little louder. Last night was over and it never needed to be brought up again. He was just going to have to let this one go, and maybe if he was lucky, Sam would get a little too drunk in a few years. The thought almost made him laugh. How pathetic was that wish?

However, if Dean had just asked Sam, he would’ve found out some things he didn’t know. Sam sat beside him quietly, but his mind was just as busy. Sam remembered every from last night. He had wanted everything from last night. Sammy could remember how badly he had wanted to kiss Dean since the first time they’d kissed. But Sam thought he knew better, he recalled his brother telling him not to remember and, so, Sam wouldn’t admit to remembering. He would do as he was told, because Dean meant too much to him. Sam could never risk something like that with Dean. With others? Sure. But not his Dean.

If only Dean would’ve asked.

If only.


End file.
